


No Signal

by deltachye



Category: The Good Doctor - Fandom
Genre: Canon Autistic Character, Challenge Response, Gen, Mostly Gen, One Shot, Other, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 22:16:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12329952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x shaun murphy]He cared. All it took was a little effort to realize that.[In response to the first prompt of the October 2017 Prompt Off (Lunaescence.com).]





	No Signal

Being the niece of Aaron Glassman put you near Shaun Murphy ever since your uncle took him in. It goes without saying that you were one of the most present people in Shaun’s life.

Your uncle didn’t bother trying to explain why you had a pseudo-cousin all of the sudden. Being the president of a fancy hospital didn’t leave much time for caregiving, and your mom—sympathetic—dropped by often to see what could be done. Shaun didn’t ever ask for much, but your mom cooked and did dishes and housework to ease some pressure off of her brother and his ward.

As for you, she tasked you with keeping Shaun company, even though he didn’t seem to like you in the slightest.

You didn’t know much about him. Your uncle had tried to explain autism, but for all you knew as a young child, he was quiet and didn’t like to talk. That was fine with you. Your own shyness and attachment to your parents stiffened you up in front of others, too. Your separation anxiety was far too much for you to cope with. Trying to ease you out of this, your mother had left you and Shaun together to go to the store, despite your desperate pleas.

So, you sat and fidgeted with your hands under your legs, not having moved ever since your mom had left. Shaun was reading and hadn’t bothered to look up at you ever since you sat down. It was a bit awkward, perhaps, but better him ignore you entirely than have him notice the fretful tears swimming in your eyes.

“The drawer.”

Your head snapped up and you realized Shaun had spoken. His eyes were still trailing across the impossibly large textbook, but nobody else was around to have said anything.

“O-okay?” you whispered, unsure of what he meant. There was a moment of silence before his blue eyes flickered up to yours, and then away to the ceiling.

“Colouring helps with anxiety. I read it in a magazine. If you feel anxious, you can colour.”

“…okay.”

Tentatively, you got out of the chair, crossing over the room to investigate this drawer. It was easy to find and when you pulled it out, it was loaded to the brim with building blocks and art supplies. You looked behind your shoulder, but Shaun had gone back to ignoring you, focused on his reading. You took that as a cue to take whatever you wanted.

You climbed back into the dining room chair and rolled out a couple of crayons. You didn’t know what ‘anxiety’ was at the time, but figured that you liked colouring enough. You glanced up at Shaun, deciding that you should at least thank him, and saw that he was already staring at you. Once again, his eyes jumped up and away to the ceiling.

“If you want to help me colour, you can,” you offered shyly. Your voice was so small that you didn’t think he’d even hear you.

“…you’re holding a blue crayon. Elephants aren’t blue.”

You glanced down at the page you had dragged out of the drawer. The big cartoon elephant grinned up at you. Stubbornly, you snapped your head back up to pout at Shaun.

“Maybe I _want_ a blue elephant.”

“That’s weird,” he pointed out, staring pointedly at the blue crayon. You couldn’t help but laugh. The sound seemed to take him aback and he actually met your eyes, right as you pointed down to the page.

“Yeah, but so is an elephant wearing a big hat.” The elephant was wearing some sort of strange top hat, which was ridiculously unfunny enough to be hysterical for a child. You giggled to yourself again. Shaun didn’t laugh, but he didn’t look away. Curiosity. You extended a crayon to him tentatively.

“You can colour the hat,” you attempted. It was the most that you’d spoken with him since meeting him. He stared at your hand, seeming to think about it, before slowly reaching out with trembling fingers.

“…okay.”

Years later, the process hadn’t changed. Shaun’s readings of other people were still screwed, at best, and it was still hard for you to understand what he was thinking. But you made it work. All it took was patience and an extended marker.

“Write it out,” you murmured softly. “Breathe. Tell me what’s wrong. You can do it, Shaun.”

His hand shook violently as he gasped for air. You’d found him wheezing on the couch, tears staining a face that was usually warmed with a distant smile. He rocked, back and forth, so much so that he could barely reach your hand. You extended it to him and he jerkily drew on your skin.

“S?”

His touch spasmed and he nodded, continuing to rock. You racked your brain for what he could be trying to say.

“Scared? Surgery?”

He whined a bit. You didn’t touch him yet, tracing the black S on your palm instead.

“Steve. Your brother, Steve?”

A nod. Tiny, but there. You nodded back, your heart sinking as you saw his face in the dark.

“You had a nightmare.”

“I can’t stop thinking,” he blurted out, startling you. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t…”

“You’re okay,” you said firmly. “You’re okay now. I’m here. I’m going to touch you, okay? Here.”

You sat across from him and pulled him into you. His body was tense and he kept rocking, in and out of your embrace. You continued to say it as evenly as you could, soothing him by rubbing his back.

“You’re okay.... I’m here.”

“I’m okay,” he repeated after a while. Slowly, he settled into your arms, his face wet against your nape as he slowed down. His hand gripped your wrist. “You’re here. [Name].”

He’d never been good at communicating. But there was no mistake—he continued to murmur your name to himself, over and over, just to reassure himself. You held him close.

“I’m here.”

**Author's Note:**

> tbh,, my thoughts on the show are still lukewarm. at best, the writing is mediocre and the side characters are weakly dimensional.
> 
> autism in major media is wonderful, but i think 'the good doctor' has a way to go.
> 
> that said. shaun is a precious guy what a boy look at him go did you mean: that's my SON
> 
> https://goo.gl/yuqnNQ


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